Daisy | Simon Riley

|35| Explicit Content 18+

She'd long forgotten she told Soap she would have dinner with him, although she wasn't hungry any longer. They'd finished their early dinner a few hours ago, then watched another movie through, leaving her half asleep and curled into Simon's arms.

God, that wasn't something she thought would ever happen. Not with him. Not with a coworker.

For the longest time, she assumed she'd meet someone outside of work, but as she neared her thirties, she'd stopped looking. Casual flings were enough for her, especially considering how difficult it would be to have a long distance relationship.

But with Simon, she didn't have to worry about that. Although they weren't in a relationship, she'd certainly consider them friends now. They hadn't even fought recently.

She chuckled; that's a win.

"What are the voices in your head tellin' you now?" Simon asked gruffly.

She narrowed her eyes, turning her head to look at him, "They're darin' me to try to stab you with the scissors over there."

He smirked. "I'd also like to see you try."

"Jerk."

"I thought you fixed that attitude?"

"I'll always have an attitude for you," she offered sweetly.

He shifted so he was looking at her. "That a challenge, love?"

She leaned toward him, nearly close enough to kiss. "If it is?" she asked before taking his bottom lip between her teeth.

He hummed, pulling his lip back only to kiss her hard before tugging her onto his lap.

Her body went electric, the feel of his hands running across her skin like energy she didn't know she needed. And as his hands tightened on her hips and began rocking her against him, she kissed him harder. She couldn't get enough of him. Of his lips, or his scent, or his touch.

God, she was fucking whipped.

"Tell me what you want, Drew," he asked against her lips.

She pressed closer, grinding her cunt against his hardening dick. "I want you to fuck me, Simon."

He smiled a little into the kiss, hands moving to tug off the sweatshirt she'd changed into. She wore nothing beneath, so the moment it hit the floor, his mouth was on her nipples, biting and sucking, but ever so gentle around her still healing wounds.

She moaned in pleasure, her hands running through his hair.

"How do you want me to fuck you?" he asked before switching to the other breast.

"Hard."

He bit down, eliciting a sharp gasp from her at the pain. "What else?"

The friction between her legs mixed with his mouth was enough to have her panting. "I want you to do what you've been wanting to. No holding back."

"That's tempting..."

Her hands tugged his hair, pulling him back up to kiss. It was then that he stood, his hands easily keeping her up as he moved around the coffee table before setting her down on the edge of the bed. Without warning, he ripped her shorts off.

"Simon—"

He dropped, putting her legs over his shoulders and immediately pressing his tongue to her cunt. The feeling had her legs jerking to pull him impossibly closer. His tongue worked like a man starved, already pulling shaky cries from her without his hands touching her.

When he did finally pull away to rub his fingers across her entrance, she could feel her wetness already pooling. He teased—God he teased like an asshole, tracing his fingers up and down her cunt, making her squirm.